sparkling like glass against a dark sky
by no white horse for me
Summary: "This time, she does smile. Because she's glad that she can break something other than herself" JATHAN. Jennette is forced to accept reality after she gets some awful news. ANGSTY!


**Hello, fellow story writers! So, this is not Seddie, but Jathan, and it's my first published one! It's very angsty - my first one yet cuz i'm normally chizzy at writng angst - and i really like it. it was literally written in the space of 10 minutes, and i was listening to 'Read all about it' by professor green, which is a very strong song, so i hope you enjoy this! and for harry potter fans who are reading Past, Present and Future, IT WILL BE UPDATED ASAP, I PROMISE! anyway, hope you enjoy this, and i'm UBER excited for iBalls!  
>HPloveofmylife<strong>

Her phone is held in limp fingers. It is clutched to her ear, and the person on the opposite end calling her name. "Jennette? Jennette, honey, are you there?" No, no she isn't there – she's way away, far out, living in a perfect world where this conversation had never happened.

"No. No, no, no!" She sobs, ignoring the girl's desperate attempts to calm her down.

"I'm so sorry, Jennette. It was quick and easy." And with that, the line goes dead and Jennette's left listening to the dial tone. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, for her world to come crashing down around her. And it does. The perfect little masquerade she has built up, the perfect life that everyone thought she lived, it all slipped away. Her phone falls with a dull clatter to the floor, but she doesn't bother to pick it up. Her nails dig into the soft skin of bare legs, leaving half-moon shapes. The pain is a good reminder – it makes her believe that this is real. The tears streak down her cheeks, leaving dark red paths. She shakes her head, her blond curls bouncing as she does.

She blinks up at the mirror, and is disgusted at the sight before her. Lips in a thin, red line. Light blue eyes brimming with tears, shed of the mask they normally hide behind. Curls dishevelled – she knows Nate won't be happy when she goes out for rehearsal because he loves to play with her hair and tug it just to irk her – but she doesn't care. About anything. Faintly, she hears her phone ring. And ring. _And ring_ _until it's all she can hear. _Her crystalline eyes flicker up to the dresser, to a picture of her, her three brothers, and a woman with a mob of dark hair, all grinning, and her father behind the camera. She wonders whether he knows.

Her mother is gone.

She doesn't know where the revelation comes from, but it hurts, it hits her like a slap across the face. It feels as though she's been doused in cold water. Debra McCurdy is dead, gone, forever.

"Jennette?" It's Miranda, the dark-haired girl with the dark brown eyes. Jennette is half-tempted to tell her, tell her that her mother died an hour ago while Jennette was doing a script run-through. But she immediately kills the idea – Miranda wouldn't understand, even if she wanted to. "It's almost time for run-through. Are you in there?" Jennette stands still, hoping Miranda will go away. And she does, clomping down the hall in those stupid boots that make Jennette feel shorter than she ever has.

She stares at the door as more tears snake their way down her cheek, like shards of glass. Jennette backs against the wall, her hands limp against her side. She slides down the wall, her head in her hands, trying to ignore the slamming at the back of her head, giving her a roaring headache. She slams her head against the wall, tasting blood in the back of her mouth. She almost smiles, because the painful sensation running down her spine drags her away from the mental war she is waging.

Her phone keeps ringing, and she's tempted to pick it up, but then she realizes that she has to talk to someone. She reaches out pale, tear-soaked fingers toward the little electronic – she wraps them around it – she hurls it against the wall with so much force it breaks cleanly in two. This time, she does smile. Because she's glad that she can break something other than herself.

Time slips away, slides through her fingers like sand, and the only sound is people hurrying past, some knocking desperately on her door, but none think to enter, because it's not polite without being invited in. But then, Nathan comes barging in, red in the face and his arms bursting against the sleeves of his collared t-shirt. "What kind of game do you think you're playing, Jennette?" He snaps, dark brown meeting light blue, and he immediately falls silent.

She stares at him with heavy eyes – she doesn't know what else to do – and he stares back. "What happened?" He asks of her softly, bending down in front of her. She stares at him as another single tear leaks out of her eye, and she's somewhat glad that it's him that found her; not Miranda, not Ari, not Liz, not Vic, not Avan, but him.

"Mama died." She whispers – he looks at her as the words reach his ears, and his hand covers his mouth, his own eyes glisten with tears.

"Nettie, I'm so sorry." He manages, pulling her close into a tight hug so she won't see him cry: he has to be strong, _for her_.

She wraps her fingers around his t-shirt and sobs openly, his grip tightening around her small frame as her hurt and pain wrap around her. He whispers comfortingly into her ear, but she doesn't hear. She just wants to stay here, held in his embrace, until her pain goes away. Nathan doesn't try to bring her to her feet, even though they've been here for a good 10 minutes and they're supposed to be in run-through. Instead, he just holds her close and allows her to cry, waiting for the moment when there are no more tears to shed, no more marks to mar her beautiful face.

He just hopes it comes soon.


End file.
